Loose Threads
by theplanetnotthecity
Summary: Private investigator John Smith has been given the opportunity of a lifetime - a chance to track down the elusive embezzler who goes by the name Bad Wolf. But of course, he can't say that to the lovely woman sitting next to him on his flight.


This was the first time the Doctor had ever crossed his fingers for a delayed flight.

He hadn't even intended to go back to London; not for a while, at least, but he wasn't going to turn down fifteen grand for the sake of another few weeks in the sun. Although that wouldn't matter if his taxi driver didn't speed up fairly sharpish.

He checked his watch. 12:25. If he didn't check in by half past, they'd give his seat away. He pressed his head back onto his seat, forcing himself to stop fidgeting. He was cutting it fine as it was – if the plane landed bang on time, he'd have less than half an hour to meet his client, and he'd been warned not to keep him waiting. If he missed the flight, that was that.

He knew very little about the client, come to think of it. He'd only been contacted through text messages from their solicitor. They were rich, he was sure of that much. And they'd been significantly richer before the Bad Wolf struck.

Now, the Bad Wolf, he was somebody the Doctor knew all about. Or at least, he'd like to. The one case he'd always wanted to crack, and he'd finally been given the means to do it. He'd succeed where countless others had failed and be rewarded lavishly.

Dozens of London's elite had already fallen prey to him; he was a genius. And no one had any idea what they were looking for. The enigma of the Bad Wolf had intrigued the Doctor since his first months as a private eye, years and years ago.

The taxi pulled to a halt outside the airport. It was 12.29. The Doctor thrust a handful of ten dollar bills at the driver and stumbled out the door, barely stopping to grab his luggage from the back. He sprinted to the desk, fumbling for his boarding pass. He was the only latecomer, he noticed. The airport was quiet for a Friday afternoon, everyone was either in the little shop, or in the cafe he could see out of the corner of his eye as he loaded his suitcase onto the conveyor belt.

He was just thinking how much he'd love a coffee when something collided with his legs, almost sending him over the desk into the arms of the clerk.

"Oh, God! Sorry! I'm sorry!" came a voice from behind him. It was a pleasant surprise after weeks spent in Florida to hear an accent from so close to home. The voice belonged to a young blonde woman, who at that moment was scrambling to get her massive suitcase off him. It was almost bigger than her, he noted as he brushed himself off.

"You'd wanna be more careful with that. You sure it's gonna get through security?"

"Hope so," she grinned, bending to pick up her sleek, black phone. "Sorry, I was in a bit of a rush. I didn't think I'd make it."

"Oh, I'm the same!" He couldn't help but grin back. "John Smith," he added, offering her his hand. 'The Doctor' was strictly for work.

The clerk coughed politely. "Yes! Sorry," he told her, sliding his passport and boarding pass across the shiny desk.

He stepped aside once his papers had been approved, wondering whether or not to wait for the woman, who seemed to be having trouble squeezing her bag through the tight space on the conveyor. He figured it was best to leave her to it, and strolled off in the direction of the gate.

The airport wasn't huge, and his flight was already boarding so he was seated in less than ten minutes. He wouldn't have picked a middle seat, certainly not in economy class, but he'd only booked the night before, so he settled back on the scratchy blue fabric and accepted his lot. Anyway, he could take the window seat if nobody showed up and claimed it.

He'd been up half the night talking to that bloody solicitor, and packing, and he was ready to drop off. If he slept, he mused, he'd be sleepy throughout the meeting, but if he loaded up on caffeine he'd probably make it until he got home before he collapsed. He wriggled into a more upright position, resigning himself to keep his eyes open until the drinks trolley came around. Now that he was finally here, though, he found himself unable to keep from dozing off every few seconds. The tourist next to him was looking at him as if he was mad.

"Sorry," he told him, rubbing the back of his neck. "Long night."

"D'you have to make conversation with everyone who looks at you?" chirped a voice. _The bloody suitcase woman,_ he thought, not loving how the thought was a pleasant one. He realised a bit too late that he hadn't answered. "Sorry, were you trying to sleep? Won't be two seconds." She hopped over the tourist and himself, ignoring the former's grunt of indignation. The Doctor blinked as she settled herself into the seat next to him, replaying the very close glimpse he'd gotten of her denim-clad bum.

"Nope! No, not me, can't sleep on planes."

"Right, you're a big ball of energy!" She stretched, unclipped her tray table, and spilled the contents of her pockets.

"That's me," he beamed, watching the astounding accumulation of rubbish on her table. She had a leather wallet, a chunky phone with one of those stupidly large keyboards and half a packet of polo mints, and a veritable mountain of bus tickets and receipts.

"Sorry," she said, catching him staring. "Only, if I don't do it now, I won't do it at all." She pushed the rubbish to the side and toyed with her mobile. "What did you run off for earlier, anyway?"

"Oh, I thought you were. . . handling things quite well." She laughed at that. It sounded like, not quite bells. Laughter didn't sound like bells. But something equally joyous, and. . . and _pretty_.

"Yeah, no bother there! I'm Rose Tyler, since you didn't ask. And I'm gonna have a great big nap, seeing as I'll get no sleep when I get home"

"You're dead right," he told her as he leaned back on his seat again. If he was being honest, he was disappointed; he wasn't looking forward to spending the next eight hours with the grumpy tourist and – if he was being_ very_ honest – thinking about her bum.

He managed to wait a few minutes before blurting out, "Why aren't you gonna get any sleep at home?" Her nose wrinkled and she opened her eyes.

"Oh, y'know. Family. It's just my mum and me, so she'll be asking me all sorts of questions." She waved her hand. "Thought you were letting me sleep?"

"Ah, well, you can't very well sleep while she's giving safety instructions. I couldn't have it on my conscience that I let you miss that," he grinned.

She sat upright, suppressing a yawn. "Just cause you're an insomniac, you're gonna keep me up, too, alright."

"No! No. Sorry, ignore me. I'm always yapping on, go back to sleep," he said in a loud, apologetic whisper.

"Nah, I'm awake now. Should probably get some work done anyway." She stretched again, and this time he didn't hesitate to peek at the sliver of tummy showing. He nearly smacked himself upside the head. He'd know her for the next eight hours, and that was it. Even then, she was working. No need to go fantasising about the woman sitting next to him on a _flight_, for God's sake.

"What d'you work as?" he found himself asking. He needed a coffee, get his brain working properly, then he might be able to leave her alone to work.

"I'm a part-time technical writing consultant," she told him. She didn't seem to mind the chat, though she was probably being nice. Or he was a welcome distraction, her work didn't sound riveting.

"That's a mouthful – oh!" The plane rumbled to life beneath them.

"D'you not like flying?" she asked, speaking up over the roar of the engines.

"Nah, it's just when your ears go funny." He pulled a face.

"Here," she said, and passed him a polo mint.

"Oh, brilliant, ta."

"If you want one on the way back down you'd better make that one last," she told him with a cheeky smile. He popped it in his mouth. He wasn't exactly sure how to make a polo last, he hadn't eaten one in years and he had fond memories of trying to eat as many as possible in the shortest time. He tucked it in by his front teeth and sucked in his cheeks. Rose nearly spat out her mint laughing, leaning forward on her table. He found himself laughing along, much to the disgust of their neighbouring tourist.

"God, I can't work like this," she said, leaning back. "Can't sleep either. This is your fault."

"Sorry!" he said cheerfully. "We'll have to play I-Spy!" She groaned, burying her face in her hands.

"I was only here for the weekend, I'll never get over the jet lag!"

"Any drinks?" called a voice from the aisle.

"Oh, lovely, I'll have a coffee, thanks." He struggled to keep a straight face.

"One for me too, thanks," added Rose. They paid and she set her drink down amidst the papers on her table. The Doctor watched as she added an obscene amount of sugar.

"That's vile," he commented, taking a sip. She looked up.

"Right, but you have a froth moustache," she grinned. He grimaced and wiped it off with one of her bus tickets, and settled back into his cramped seat. He could clear his head now, and maybe focus on the case. He noticed Rose out of the corner of his eye taking out her phone, probably working. Her nails were painted, purple and silver on every second finger. Her right index and thumb nails were filed short and the varnish was chipped. He had better things to be doing than staring at her hands, though.

"Never asked," she said, putting down her phone. "What d'you do?"

"Oh, ah," he stammered. He hadn't prepared for that. Technically he was _allowed_ to tell people his job, but it sounded so pretentious. As if he didn't want to tell her his real job. _Oh, yeah, I'm a private investigator, _he'd sat, and wonder why she ignored him for the rest of the flight.

"As in, your job?" she added, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm a coach!"

"I'd never have guessed!" she beamed. "Football? Any team I'd know?"

"Oh, no, um, basketball."

"That'd explain Florida. Yeah, I can see it. Lanky bastard."

"Oi!"

Rose cackled again and he took it as an opportunity to gulp down some coffee, hiding his smile. He wasn't feeling any less tired or light-headed, and he was fucked for his meeting, but he didn't want to miss another chance to see her laugh like that. He settled back in the the seat, finding it increasingly difficult to get comfortable.

He forced himself to concentrate on the meeting he was due to attend once they landed. He'd be expected to have a basic knowledge of what he was dealing with. A case of complex embezzlement, where one single mastermind had created hundreds of companies, linked to pre-existing services and leeched millions of pounds out of the accounts anyone who used their services. Reputable companies, they seemed, too, no one suspected a thing until dozens had had the same fate. Naturally, all the companies shut down, but it wasn't long before more started up. No one had been able to discover the genius behind it. The solicitor had promised that he had significant information, though. The Doctor wasn't sure what passed as "significant information" in the world of law, but it was safe to say, with the cash he'd be given, he'd have an edge. He was confident.

The Doctor woke up an an elbow jabbing him in the side. "Mmph," he grumbled, pushing his face further into his cushion.

Upon realising his cushion was, in fact, Rose Tyler's neck, he leapt up, banging his head off the edge of his seat. "Sorry! Sorry."

She laughed, stretching out. "It's alright. Doesn't sleep on flights, he says."

He rubbed his eyes. "I don't. Dunno what that was. Sorry."

"Nah, I fell asleep myself. Only woke you cause we're nearly here."

"Oh. Brilliant." He cracked his neck. "I've a meeting in an hour or so, do I look in any way decent?"

"Ah, here," she smiled, smoothing his hair a bit. He leaned forward, relishing the feeling of her fingers on his scalp. "Bit better."

"Bit?" he raised his eyebrows. She smoothed his collar.

"That'll do."

He winked, making her laugh again. "Mint?" she asked as the plane began to descend.

"Ta."

They'd just cleared up their things when they touched down. They shuffled off the plane, the Doctor still half-asleep until they reached arrivals.

"Try not to wound anyone this time, yeah?" he said as he helped Rose to pull her bag from the carousel.

"No promises," she teased.

They strolled out together, suitcases trailing behind him. This was a new chapter in his life, he was going to crack the mystery of the Bad Wolf and finally gain some respect. But he almost didn't want the walk to the taxi rank to end. There was something about Rose Tyler that made him want to know more, maybe ask where she was going, and maybe even ask very nicely if he could accompany her there.

But he'd only known her a few hours, and he couldn't pass this up. "This is it, then," he said outside the line of cabs. "It's been lovely." Not the first word that sprang to mind, but perhaps the most acceptable.

"Yeah," she grinned, and he couldn't help but notice how her hair blew around her face in the wind. She hadn't looked out of place in Florida, but here, silhouetted against the grey sky and drab buildings, she glowed. "C'mere."

She pulled him into a tight hug, and he nearly lifted her off her feet. She was warm, and pressed against him in all the right places, most notably her face, burying itself between his neck and shoulder. He squeezed her tight before letting go.

"Good luck at your meeting," she told him.

"Right. Thanks! And, good luck. . ." He waved his arm in a vague gesture.

"Oh, I'm going to my aunt's for a while, out in Dagenham. Ford Road."

"Well, have fun. I'll see you." He popped his bag into the back of the first cab.

"See you!" she said just as he sat down. He turned to wave but she'd disappeared into a taxi. She'd told him where she'd be, though. He felt like his heart might leap out of its chest. She'd practically told him her address. She wouldn't have done that if she didn't want to see him again.

Leaning back in the seat, he handed the driver the slip of paper with the address on it. He had plenty of time.

The Doctor was feeling much calmer with the cab pulled up outside the cafe. He was feeling confident, even. He'd go inside, get his lump sum, crack the case and maybe go and see Rose Tyler along the way.

He recognised the solicitor and his client right away. The cafe was mostly empty, and they were the only ones dressed formally. He approached the table and held out his hand.

"Ah, here he is," said the taller of the two. "John Smith, private eye. I've heard great things."

"The Doctor," he corrected, shaking his hand firmly and sitting across from the pair.

"Of course," boomed the smaller man. "We've had some trouble with this one, and I've heard I'm not the only one."

The Doctor leaned on the table. "No, you're certainly not the first. I was told you've got specific evidence?"

The solicitor smiled. "The security network picked up transmissions from a certain device, it seems the network was too difficult to gain access to from afar. We've narrowed it down to this device." He slid a picture of a black phone across the table. "I assume you have access to the necessary technology to track the device. We have its associated codes and addresses."

It was probably very unprofessional that his first thought was _that's the phone Rose had._ "Ah. Yeah! Yes, I can do that if you give me the codes." He was handed a small USB stick. "I can get on that as soon as possible." He was jubilant. They were paying him fifteen grand to punch in some numbers. This would make him. And maybe he could go and tell Rose Tyler the truth about what his job was and how good he was at it and how much he'd thought about her bum.

Only something told him otherwise. Something was off. That's when he realised. That wasn't the phone Rose had had on the flight, she'd had a blue one with a keyboard. But she'd definitely had this one in the terminal.

An image flashed to mind of him tracking the phone's codes only to burst into her aunt's flat from where she was running her organised criminal ring. He nearly laughed there and then.

_Only,_ he reminded himself, _she hasn't got an aunt. It's just herself and her mum._

"I've got to go," he heard himself say, pushing his chair back, his heart pounding.

"There's the small matter of your payment. . ."

He was gone, tearing down the road. She'd only gone over for the weekend, and he'd felt her suitcase. It was heavier than him. _Who goes from London to Florida for a weekend, anyway?_ He asked himself.

It was her. She'd been there all along, the Bad Wolf. Oh, she was clever. _Part-time technical writing consultant. _You can't be a part-time consultant, he scoffed. He had her.

He managed to flag down a cab on his fourth attempt. Of all people, she'd given _him_ her address. It couldn't be more perfect. "Ford Road," he told the cabbie. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he couldn't deal with that bloody solicitor right then. He felt as if this car was going slower than the one that morning. He'd left his suitcase in the cafe, and he found he didn't care. This was it.

He stumbled out of the cab with a hasty thank you when they arrived. He knew her name, he could ask around. _If that's her real name. _He raced up the nearest staircase and knocked on the door, fighting to compose himself.

An elderly woman answered, and squinted at him.

"Hello. Sorry! Do you by any chance know where I could find Rose Tyler?"

"She's just upstairs, love. Are you –" He was off. The Doctor didn't believe in luck, but after today, he might have to start.

He hammered on the door and regained her breath. Still, after everything, he was surprised to see her. She'd told him she lived here, but this didn't seem real.

"John! My God, what are you doing? Come in!"

"It's you," he panted.

"What?" She opened the door wider. "Look, I wasn't expecting –"

"You're the Bad Wolf," he interrupted.

Her mouth fell open as she stared at him. "Who. . . What?"

"I'm a private investigator. The Doctor." He straightened up and met her eyes.

"I've not heard of you," she whispered.

"Yeah, I could've told you that."

"I've got – I have to –"

"Go, I know. They're probably tracking my phone."

"For fuck's sake, aren't you meant to arrest me? Throw me in jail, collect your reward?"

He looked at her. Words weren't forming.

"I – They're on their way." He was mad. He was bloody crazy, but when she looked at him like that, he could definitely condone some petty embezzlement. "We have to go."

"We? Whose side are you on?" she demanded. "I can't trust you."

"Oh, Rose Tyler, I'm putting all my trust in you."

She looked at him for a few seconds, as if measuring him up, and decided he would do. She took his phone and threw it inside the flat, grabbed his hand and they were off, tearing down the stairs and along the street.

"A basketball coach," she panted, "I'm the bigger fool."

He laughed, and then whooped, and laughed some more, until she started laughing, and they cackled as then ran until they were out of breath and out of sight of the building.


End file.
